


For Unto Us a Child Is Born

by MickyRC



Series: Star of Wonder Ineffable Advent [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam deserves better than this, Advent Calendar, Aziraphale's Cocoa, Christmas, Crack, Fluff, Holidays, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21646528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: Is it really that ridiculous to think Hell might have reacted to the birth of the Anti-Christ the way Heaven did to the birth of Christ?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Star of Wonder Ineffable Advent [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559308
Comments: 20
Kudos: 87
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs





	For Unto Us a Child Is Born

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of my Star of Wonder advent calendar, in which each day's fic is inspired by a song from my favorite Christmas album, The Roches' _We Three Kings._ It's also going up on tumblr [over here!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/micky-r-c)

“Oi, Aziraphale. _Aziraphale._ Earth to angel.”

Aziraphale started. He was sitting in an armchair with a book on his lap, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d been reading. He looked up to find Crowley hovering over him with a smirk and a steaming mug.

“Oh,” he smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

“Na-a-a.” Crowley pulled the mug away as Aziraphale reached for it.

“ _Dear._ ”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s nothing,” Aziraphale tried to wave him off while still going for the mug.

“Hm. Okay, then. Guess I’ll have to drink this myself.” 

“Crowley, wh—fine, _fine,_ just give me the cocoa.”

Crowley happily complied, and dropped onto the armrest next to him. Aziraphale took a sip to buy himself a moment. The cocoa was perfect, of course; Crowley wouldn’t have allowed it to be anything else.

“So what’s up? You’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes.”

“They’re big pages,” Aziraphale defended himself. “And it’s Dickens, it takes time to read.”

“Angel, you were reading Dickens when it was coming out in magazines.” The angel huffed, but Crowley just laughed and draped an arm around his shoulders.

Aziraphale softened immediately. “It’s really nothing to worry about, darling. Just a stray thought.”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale reached for his book again, ready to go back to Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas past. But before he could, a skinny arm leaned across him and snatched away his cocoa again.

Aziraphale glared at him. “Dearest, _really._ ”

“Scooch.”

“Sorry?”

Crowley gestured for him to move over with his chin. “Scooch.”

Aziraphale did, although he wasn’t sure why. There was no way they could both fit on—except, apparently, they could, because Crowley slipped right in between him and the armrest, and somehow the press of their hipbones against each other was pleasant rather than uncomfortable. Crowley handed the cocoa back, and curled up next to him, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and linking his arms about his waist. Aziraphale felt a glow in his chest that had very little to do with the warm mug held against it.

“Y’don’t have to tell me, y’know,” Crowley said. “I was just kidding around.”

“I know, dearest.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, making him blush and wiggle closer. “I don’t mind. It’s just silly, really. One of those random thoughts.” Crowley nodded against his arm. “I was just thinking… well, obviously when Christ was born, there was a whole…” He made vague gestures with his free hand. “Thing.”

Crowley snorted. “You don’t say.”

“Hush. Anyway, I was just wondering, was there anything like that for Adam? Downstairs, I mean.”

Crowley sat up slightly so he could turn a bewildered face to the angel. “Are you asking if Hell has… what, and Anti-Christmas every August?”

“I take it that’s a no, then.”

“…angel, Hell didn’t even get excited when I made the M25 a satanic prayer wheel.”

Aziraphale shrugged and took a sip of cocoa. “I told you it was silly. Just a stray thought.”

He picked up his book, and Crowley settled back against him, and they sat there in lovely quiet for a while. Aziraphale was just getting back into the story when he felt the demon cuddling him start to shake slightly.

“Darling, are you alright?” he asked, setting the book down again.

That did it for Crowley, who lost control of his snickers and started fully laughing against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I just—just the _image,_ ” he gasped out. “Just—just— _Lord Beelzebub in a Santa hat._ ” He broke down into giggles, and Aziraphale joined him, putting the cocoa mug on a side table for safety.

“Can you imagine?” Crowley continued. “Garlands in the hallways? _Tinsel?!?_ ”

“How about all the demons singing carols?”

Crowley wheezed. “Oh, Almighty, Hastur and Ligur singing is—I never want to see that, but just the thought—” He was laughing so hard he nearly fell off the chair, and Aziraphale grabbed him—just in time to get pulled down, too. They landed in a heap, cackling and egging each other on.

Aziraphale’s cocoa, in the end, went cold. That tended to happen when there was something important going on.

And what could be more important than laughing with the one he loved, imagining the Prince of Hell in a Santa hat?

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I really really like writing these two lovebirds laughing.


End file.
